“I didn’t think that for a moment,” she said lightly. “Well, not entirely. I should warn you, there will be paintings in the Accademia, but I promise I won’t force you to linger.”
“Most appreciated.”
“And we have the unveiling of a new work of art to attend this afternoon.”
“Oh, that does sound like fun,” he said under his breath. “Are you sure we can’t stay another day? A nice relaxing day of meandering?” A tempting note sounded in his voice. “Doesn’t that sound enjoyable?”
“As much as it pains me to cut any visit to Florence short, there’s a gathering in Greece I attend every year. I hadn’t planned on going at all this year, given Uncle Richard’s death, but plans change.” She cast him a pointed look. “This is not a simply for pleasure trip. Obligations, James. Tomorrow, we’re off to Athens.”
“And how do we get to Athens?” he asked slowly.
“We take the train to Brindisi—that’s a full day’s trip. Then we’ll take a steamer to Athens.”
“And that will take...?”
“Excepting any weather problems...” She thought for a moment. “About two and a half days.”
“So we’ll be at sea for two and a half days,” he said slowly.
“It scarcely feels like it, really,” she said blithely. “We’re frequently in sight of land.”
“Oh, well, yes, that makes all the difference.” He didn’t sound especially convinced.
“You must be famished.” She shook her head. “You hardly ate anything yesterday. Penelope’s cook always has the most wonderful breakfasts.”
“You’re right—I’m starving.” He waved toward the door. “Shall we?”
“At least we can agree on that.” She smiled. “I’m hungry, too.”
They made their way to Penelope’s breakfast room on the first floor. With its bright colors and cheerful fabrics, it might have seemed at odds with the ancient decor in the rest of the palazzo and yet it had always struck Violet as being rather perfect.
The sisters Violet had met last night—Miss Emma and Miss Nancy Green—were seated at the large table and Violet introduced them to James.
“A pleasure, Miss Green.” James took Emma’s hand and raised it to his lips, his gaze never leaving hers. “I can’t tell you how delightful it is to meet the flower of English womanhood here in the heart of Italy.”
“Oh.” Emma’s eyes widened and she blushed. “Thank you, my lord.”
Nancy, who looked a few years younger than her sister, held out her hand the moment James released Emma’s. He took it without hesitation. “And yet another Miss Green.” He brought her hand to his lips and gazed into her eyes. “How is it possible for two such enchanting creatures to belong to the same family?”
Nancy giggled.
Good Lord.
Violet excused herself and went to the sideboard to peruse this morning’s breakfast offering. Tomasia was replenishing platters and greeted her with a broad smile and a few subtle, admiring glances at James. The cook had, as always, outdone herself with a sausage-and-cheese-laden frittata, thinly sliced cold meats, pastries, an assortment of breads, cheeses and fresh fruits. Violet filled her plate with more than she could possibly eat and returned to the table.
Apparently, she’d been gone long enough for James to work his questionable magic and both ladies gazed at him as if he were the most remarkable creature ever to set foot on the earth. Violet had forgotten how truly charming the man could be.
“The ladies were just telling me that this is their first visit to Florence,” James said.
“Oh, my, yes.” Nancy nodded eagerly. “Our first trip anywhere, really.”
“Well, we have been to London,” Emma pointed out. “Several times, in fact.” She frowned. “It’s extremely crowded and the traffic is rather intimidating.” She brightened. “Still, we do like London.”
“But Paris.” Nancy heaved the heartfelt sigh of a true romantic. “Paris was everything we expected it to be.”
Tomasia set a huge plate of food in front of James. He cast her a grateful smile. She grinned in return and a blush washed up her face. Violet’s mouth dropped open in shock. Tomasia never served anyone. James caught Violet’s gaze and winked. The man really had no shame.
“Emma and Nancy are on a sort of independent grand tour,” James said between bites.
“Indeed we are.” Emma nodded. “We recently came into a great deal of money, more than enough to travel, so we thought ‘why not?’”
“Father died, you see.” Nancy leaned closer in a confidential manner. “We had no idea he was, well, rich. He certainly never acted rich.”
“Father was something of a miser.” Emma shrugged. “But we never went without and he was a dear in his own selfish way. We’re sure he would have wanted us to enjoy his money.”
“Father considered travel frivolous. Why, there’s nothing worth seeing in the world one can’t see right here in England, he used to say.” Nancy grinned. “So it was the first thing we did.”
“Not the first thing.” Emma’s grin matched her sister’s. “First—we ordered entirely new wardrobes.”
“And might I say, I’ve never seen two ladies quite so fashionably attired,” James said gallantly.
Nancy giggled. Again.
“And you’re planning a month here in Florence?” Violet asked before James could say something else annoying.
“We only arrived yesterday morning.” Emma patted the familiar red cover of a Baedeker’s guide by her plate. “We intend to see everything there is to see.”
“You do plan to go to the Uffizi, I hope.” James adopted a stern manner. “It’s one of the finest art museums in the world.”
“Yes, of course.” Nancy nodded. “We’re students of art, always have been. We intend to spend the entire day there.”
“But today we plan to see the David sculpture. You know, the one by Michelangelo,” Emma said in an aside to Violet.
“Oh, yes, that one.” Violet nodded. “It really is remarkable.”
“What a startling coincidence, ladies.” James’s eyes widened in feigned astonishment. What was he up to? “Lady Ellsworth and I were planning on visiting that very sculpture right after breakfast.” He smiled. “Why don’t you join us?” He turned to Violet. “Unless you can think of any reason why not?”
Violet shook head. “Not one.”
“Are you certain?” Hope shone in Emma’s eyes. “We would hate to be a bother.”
“Nonsense,” Violet said, surprised to note she would rather be alone with James. And David, of course. “There is nothing more enjoyable than to see the sights with newly found friends.”
“According to my guidebook...” Emma picked up the small book and proceed to read. “David, also known as Il Gigante, was shaped by the youthful artist in 1503 to 1504...”
Violet had heard all this before. Far more fascinating than the details dispensed by Emma was the attention paid to her—and her sister—by James. He listened with what appeared to be rapt attention, occasionally asking a surprisingly pertinent question of one or both of the sisters and was equally attentive to both women. He joked, he teased, he laughed and he flashed that wicked grin. He did nothing the least bit improper or untoward, nothing even overtly flirtatious, yet one could see the ladies bloom under his attentions.
A quarter of an hour later they were on their way. The moment they were out the door, James offered his arms to the sisters. Emma took his right side, using her free hand to hold her open Baedeker’s, a bag over her arm with their sketching pads. Nancy took his left, holding her parasol over them both. They were quite the jaunty trio. Violet trailed behind them.
Apparently neither sister had ever considered that not every thought they had was worth saying aloud. James didn’t appear at all bothered by their incessant chatter even while it
made Violet’s teeth clench. But there was something to be said for walking to the rear of a group. No one expected you to respond to a comment. Of course, no one directed a comment at you, either. Now she knew how the extra wheel on a carriage felt.
She shouldn’t be the least bit annoyed by the attention James paid the sisters. He really couldn’t help himself. Charm was practically second nature to him. And he didn’t merely acknowledge their remarks—he responded with questions and observations and his own opinions. The ladies hung on every word he said and gazed at him as if he were the most wonderful man in the world. It struck her that perhaps today, for them, he was. James had turned this excursion with strangers into something more than a bit of sightseeing. The Green sisters would no doubt remember this time spent in the company of the delightful Lord Ellsworth for the rest of their days. In hindsight, it would be one of the brightest spots of their trip. It was kind of James and considerate and, well, nice.
Her steps slowed. Hadn’t he been nice to her all those years ago? Hadn’t he paid attention to her when no one else had? Hadn’t he listened to what she had to say? James Branham was a truly nice man. Then and now.
Why hadn’t she noticed?
Even when they reached the Accademia and Emma felt compelled by the magic of her Baedeker’s to announce that the art displayed here was an important collection not for the casual observer, but for students of the development of Italian art from the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries, James gave her his full attention. Why, the man even went so far as to inquire as to the importance of several works on the walls of the gallery leading to the Cupola Saloon, the current residence of David. Such inquiries sent both sisters sitting down on a marble bench and frantically paging through the guidebook in an effort to be the first to answer James’s question.
With the ladies occupied, Violet sidled up beside James. “You just couldn’t resist, could you?”
“Resist what?” he asked absently, his gaze fixed on the Fra Angelico work in front of him of a Madonna with saints and angels.
“Flirting with them.”
“Was I flirting?” He glanced at her with astonishment.
“Yes, James, you were.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure?”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “There’s not a doubt in my mind.”
“Thank God.” He breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought I’d forgotten how.”
She took his arm, and they strolled down the gallery toward the famous statue. “Utter nonsense. I can’t imagine such a thing.”
“I haven’t flirted in quite some time.” He grinned. “It’s good to know I haven’t lost all my skills.”
“It’s a gift, dear.” She patted his arm.
“Be careful, Violet.” He smiled. “You’re sounding very much like a wife.”
She smiled and nodded at David growing larger with every step. “You really don’t remember seeing this?”
“I’m not sure I did.” He shrugged. “Cultural enrichment was really not the goal on my grand tour.”
They reached the saloon and stepped aside. Nancy and Emma joined them a moment later.
“Well?” Violet leaned close to James. “What do you think?”
“He certainly is big.” James gazed up at the marble statue.
“Ladies?” Violet glanced to her other side. Both sisters gazed upward as if entranced.
“Oh, my.” Nancy’s mouth had dropped open and she stared with the appreciation of a true student of art. “Magnificent.”
“He really is a masterpiece.” Emma reluctantly tore her gaze away from the statue, pulled two sketch pads from her bag and handed one to her sister. “We’ll only be a minute,” she said with a dismissive smile.
“Take all the time necessary,” James said. “Shall we circle around him?”
“You will want to see every angle.” They moved toward the back of the statue.
“Did you know Michelangelo carved this from a single block of marble?” James said in an offhand manner. “A block that was abandoned by another artist because of a flaw?”
“I did know that. I’m surprised you did.”
“Even when you’re not paying attention to anyone trying to educate you, something does permeate on occasion. And I looked at Emma’s guidebook,” he added.
She laughed.
“Do you want to hear more?”
“No, but thank you.” She turned her gaze back to the statue. “I come here every time I come to Florence and I do try to come every year. There’s something about this statue, the way it seems you could reach out and touch it and feel the blood pulse in his veins.”
“His head and hands seem overly large to me. Somewhat out of proportion, don’t you think?”
She nodded. “The statue was originally intended to be placed high on the cathedral, where he’d be viewed from below. If you’re looking up at him from a great distance, his proportions would probably appear accurate. It was decided not to place him on the cathedral when he was finished because he was pronounced too perfect to be so far away.” She ran her gaze over the white marble, from the curls on David’s head, past the piercing eyes and down the length of the muscular figure, to the stump he leaned against that was originally covered in gold leaf. “Such a magnificent talent. Michelangelo was only twenty-six when he sculpted this.”
“I’m well past twenty-six and I haven’t done much of anything,” James said wryly.
“Don’t be absurd.” She cast him a chastising glance. “You managed all of Uncle Richard’s property. You handled his investments and business interests. And Uncle Richard said you did it quite well.” She turned her gaze back to the statue. “Talent comes in all shapes and sizes, James.”
He chuckled. “My, that was profound.”
“I read a lot.” She tugged at his arm. “Come along. Let’s see how the ladies are faring.”
They continued around the statue until they reached the sisters. Emma and Nancy were comparing their drawings side by side.
“May I look?” Violet asked, circling around behind them.
“Yes, of course,” Nancy said.
“We would love your opinion,” Emma added.
For a moment, Violet wasn’t sure what to say.
Good Lord.
The sisters were both quite skilled and drew exactly what they saw in terms of proportion and perspective. As they were standing very close, very nearly under David’s marble intimate regions, the feature that was most prominent was that which was, well, most prominent.
“You know the copy in South Kensington has a fig leaf to cover it whenever the Queen visits,” Nancy said in an aside to Emma.
“Seems a shame, doesn’t it?” Emma murmured.
“Well done, ladies,” Violet said with quiet enthusiasm. The last thing she wanted was to burst some other woman’s bubble. Nor did she relish the idea of the sisters returning home to sing the praises of the charming Lord Ellsworth while noting how unpleasant Lady Ellsworth was. “Will you be hanging these at home?”
The sister’s gazes met and they each sucked in a sharp breath of excitement.
Nancy grinned. “I know just the perfect place.”
“What an excellent idea.” Emma beamed.
“May I see?” James asked politely.
The ladies turned their sketch pads toward him, their faces glowing with pride. His eyes widened.
“Excellent job, ladies,” he said slowly, glancing from the sketches to the larger than life statue. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a drawing quite so...” He cleared his throat. “Realistic.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Nancy said with a brilliant smile.
They continued to work their way along the gallery, Violet and James parting company with the sisters as soon as they left the Accademia. Emma and Nancy were off to see a number of c
hurches on their schedule today, including Il Duomo, the grand cathedral that was the heart of Florence.
“Did you see what they drew?” James asked as they casually strolled in the general direction of the market.
“I did.”
“You encouraged them to hang their drawings in their home,” he said mildly.
“That was not my intention.”
He snorted with amusement. “I can well imagine the reactions of their Yorkshire neighbors when they see the sisters’s depictions of Michelangelo’s impressive work.”
“Well, they were well drawn,” she said weakly.
He chuckled. “Indeed they were.”
“I was simply trying to be supportive.” She eyed him pointedly. “You could have said something.”
“I think anything I said would have been embarrassing.” He winced. “For all of us.”
“No doubt.”
“I was under the distinct impression that they were maiden ladies who lived in the country.”
“I believe they are.”
“And to draw with such speed and accuracy. Every detail was perfect.”
“They did seem to be accurate...”
“It does make one wonder.”
She groaned. “Don’t say it James.”
“Don’t say what?” His eyes widened innocently. “I was simply curious. I mean, one does wonder.” He grinned. “Where did they learn to draw?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
IT REALLY WAS a grand day.
The sun was shining, Florence was a feast for the senses and Violet was starting to like him again. Maybe even more than like him. Oh, she was subtle enough about it, but James could tell. It was in the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. The way she held on to his arm when they wandered the streets of the city. The way she fought against smiling at his comments and the way she teased him.
They’d spent much of the day thus far doing exactly what she liked to do in Florence—meandering without a particular destination in mind. And, whether it was deliberate or not, she managed in the process to show him a great deal of Florence.
“I don’t agree with him, you know,” he said abruptly. He and Violet were rubbing the snout of a three-hundred-year-old bronze boar displayed on the edge of a covered market offering woolen goods and leatherwork. Rubbing the nose was said to bring good luck and while it did seem silly, one could always use a little more luck.
The Lady Travelers Guide to Happily Ever After Page 25
